


The way he exists

by XetterYeonma (keusenon)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keusenon/pseuds/XetterYeonma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamamoto wished he could be closer to Kenma.<br/>Kenma wished he could be far away.</p><p>What can they do for themselves? What can they do that no one else can do?</p><p>[This fic isn't exactly meant to be romantic, but it can be taken to be like that. Please interpret it to how you see fit.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The way he exists

Yamamoto knows how Kenma can be sometimes.

The way he smirks at his idiocy, on the court and outside it.

The way he speaks, slow and uninterested in the world around him yet with a hinge of coldness that accompanied it.

The way he hides himself in the corner of the clubroom to play on his handheld console or phone.

The way he kept his hair to block the sides of his view, or the way it drapes down to hide how his eyes look.

The way he’s so distant, even when he’s right next to him.

              They got along just fine for boys their age, and boys of their type. Whether it was with the other second year, Fukunaga, or if it was with Kuroo and the others; Yamamoto and Kenma got along just fine. Their first year was a disaster; Yamamoto’s energy countered by Kenma’s lack of, their chemistry breaking apart every so often with differences and lack of connection. By the time a year had passed, they silently begun to understand each other and be close. Having to be the ace, you needed to connect to the setter. Perhaps because of that connection between players, their relationship improved without needing words.

At least, that’s how Yamamoto felt.

“Keeennma!” His voice would shout out, loud and present.

“Shut up.” Came another’s, soft and deep.

              He understood how Kenma was, even thinking of him as a sort of ‘cold yet cool guy.’ A person who had and kept his own pace, Yamamoto could respect that. Everyone could understand Yamamoto on the outside anyways; it was just Kenma that was hard to read. Perhaps out of all the second years, Yamamoto was easiest to understand despite his own struggles and secrets.

The other two were tied, both soft spoken if speaking at all.

              Yamamoto and Kenma begun hanging out more, especially when Kuroo couldn’t be there for Kenma. The importance of the third year was something everyone felt, especially towards his childhood friend. Yamamoto couldn’t help but feel jealous, wondering what its’ like to have kept a friend for that long or to be a friend with someone that long. Kuroo and Kenma had a relationship of somewhat of a brotherhood; something Yamamoto was both envious and respectful of.

              They shared lunches, or rather Yamamoto shared his lunch with Kenma so that he didn’t skip a meal during the day. They were in different classes but met up often out of school activities. Sometimes they’d have a conversation, sometimes they’d have a silent moment together. No matter how much they bonded, it always felt like Yamamoto was putting too much effort while Kenma put very little.

Even still, this was fine. They were happy like that, no problem at all.

…maybe that was a lie, wasn’t it?

* * *

 

              It started when Yamamoto had entered the clubroom like usual. He peered in the room, shouting “Heey!” to greet whoever was there. As usual, only the tint of golden locks with the top tinted with a black shine greeted him with silence. This time was different, however. No beeps nor clicks of buttons, no intense music or voices talking over it.

Just pure, unsettling dark silence.

              He blinked for a moment before closing the sliding door behind him, his footsteps as slightly thundering as ever as he approached the curled up teenager against the wall, kneeling down with his hands on his knees.

“Yo, Kenma.” Yamamoto spoke in his usual loud and annoying voice, smiling as if it were just a normal day.

Kenma didn’t answer, not even a nod of his head as it lay on his knees. His hair messy underneath his forehead, crunched up between his head and knees as he remained as silent as a statue. With a bit of an unnerving feeling, Yamamoto stretched his hand out and place it on Kenma’s shoulder.

It was slapped away seconds later, Kenma standing up and grabbing his backpack. His head pointed towards the ground, his face near parallel to it and his hair acting as a physical shield to hide his emotions.

“I’m going home.” He spoke at last, walking away from Yamamoto and put his hand on the sliding door. He stopped from opening it when he felt Yamamoto right behind him, his usual strong hand having a gentle touch as it touched his shoulder again.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, gently attempting to turn Kenma to face him.

“It’s none of your business.” Kenma stated, his words firm yet shaking underneath an invisible weight.

“Yes it is.” Yamamoto returned the firm words, resolve never fading to see his friend at least cheer up.

“Go away.” His hand was yet again slapped away, Kenma soon slipping out of the clubroom like a rat escaping from a kitchen.

Yamamoto was left speechless, deciding to leave it at that. This was different from the usual times Kenma would skip practice. It wasn’t out of laziness, nor was it because he simply didn’t want to.

It could be proven by the way he saw a drop of water splash onto the ground when Kenma left.

* * *

 

              A few days had passed. Kenma barely attended practice. Whenever he did, he wasn’t letting himself speak unless it was really needed. Everyone noticed the change in Kenma’s behaviour, and the atmosphere darkened as each day passed with their setter’s lack of former personality.

“Are you okay?” “I’m worried about you.” “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Those only made Kenma’s distance from everyone deepened. No matter how everyone showed their worry, they couldn’t pierce the barrier of Kenma’s mind. Perhaps it was the way Kenma thought it didn’t matter if he was there or not, perhaps he thought everyone would find someone else that was worth more their time. This was the kind of loneliness Kenma felt, the days of bonding with everyone and feeling some familiarity with them had crumbled into the abyss of memories as he kept his distance.

Yamamoto saw that painful loneliness, knowing that Kenma needed some sort of comfort but didn’t know how to give it. Kuroo felt it as well, the two of them wanting to see Kenma at least smile again.

              The door to the roof opened to Yamamoto, making him squint at the blazing sunlight. The breeze of winter that wanted to come blew, sending chills up his spine. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked around the roof. His eyes spotted that tint of gold and black, approaching him with a bento in hand. He wanted to greet the other like always, but that wasn’t possible.

              Kenma was leaning against the fence, the metal wires stretching high above his height and preventing him from falling over like a trapped bird with no wings. In a way, it felt like Kenma wanted to join the birds that were moving away above. Yamamoto sat next to him, placing the bento aside as he did.

Silence.

              That was all that accompanied the both of them. A wall of concrete emotions that refused to crumble, no matter how much Yamamoto tried to scratch it down with his bare hands. The way his hands would chip and bleed trying to find a way to help Kenma with his loneliness; was it really foolish of him, or was it something Kenma truly needed?

Kenma’s lips barely moved, his broken and shaking voice different from his usual cool tone.

“Leave me alone.”

              Yamamoto blinked once or twice before shaking his head, leaning against the fence as Kenma curled up once more. He saw how Kenma never showed his eyes, his face at all. It felt as if Kenma was wearing a mask of hair, and he could feel himself forget the colour of the eyes that would often hold a sarcastic phrase.

“Not going to.”

Silence again.

“Why are you here?” His voice sounded again, so much quieter this time.

“Because you’re alone.”

A scoff.

“That’s it?”

Another shake of the head.

              Kenma stood up again, his body moving on auto pilot. The way his arms just barely swayed from his side before wrapping his arms around himself, his feet scrapping against the floor as he made his way to the door. Not even halfway to his destination, Yamamoto was already standing with arms wrapped around Kenma.

He felt if he let Kenma walk out right now, Kenma would disappear.

“Let go of me.” The voice got quieter again, as if threatening to explode.

Yamamoto shook his head again. “I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” The false anger covered up his lonely tone.

“Because you’re my friend.”

“Someone else could be that for you.”

“That’s not true.”

              The warm embrace tightened, the two of them falling dead silent at each other. The breeze kept flowing like the river of time they were stuck in, Kenma’s hair flowing with the breeze as if to say Kenma was about to be swept away.

“I want you to be that person. “

              Whether it was a gasp from Kenma or the whistle of the winds, Yamamoto couldn’t tell. He could feel the way Kenma doubled over slightly, his arms the only thing keeping Kenma from doing so. He still couldn’t see his face, but the way he could feel Kenma’s chest begun to heave was the only thing he needed to know how Kenma felt.

“Just talk to me. We’ll skip class for today. Blame it on me, okay?”

The risk of being seen as delinquents was there, but they needed those moments. He could feel Kenma crumbling to the floor, his knees following the setter as they came closer to the ground.

Kenma needed those moments.

* * *

 

              Kenma stayed in Yamamoto’s arms, feeling slightly awkward to feel this kind of comfort from another male. Even still, he clung onto Yamamoto’s kindness. For this moment, Yamamoto was mature and silent, merely listening to Kenma with patience that he only had for Kenma. The way he leaned his head against his muscled arm, the way he still hid his face in his hair; Yamamoto stayed patient and put his selfish feelings behind.

“I’m not that important, Tora.” He spoke in that quiet tone again, as if rain would summon if he spoke any louder.

“Yes you are. Why else would I be here, dumbass?” Yamamoto teased a bit, reaching to poke Kenma’s cheek. That didn’t spark Kenma’s scoffs nor sighs. Just silence again until Kenma spoke a few minutes later.

“Everyone else is a lot better than me. A better person.” The way he admitted it was just like a convicted criminal’s confession.

“Is that what you were so upset about?” Yamamoto raised an eyebrow. Somehow, he expected it.

“…Tora.” Kenma moved his head just barely.

“Yeah?” He could see the way his lips moved, but his eyes were ever so hidden.

 A few shaking breathes is what he needed before he could speak.

“Would it be better to just die?”

              Kenma spoke as if he just asked Yamamoto what the time was. The sentence hit Yamamoto like a thousand arrows to the heart. Did Kenma really think like this?

“Of course not.” Yamamoto spoke with such care and love, so different than he usually would. The ace wore his heart on his sleeve however, and that was no different when it came to comforting Kenma like this. He moved Kenma around so they were facing but only gave him a proper hug, his arms wrapped around Kenma’s neck and torso as if to protect him.

“Kenma.” The loud voice became soft and gentle, as if he was tearing up as well. In fact, he did. The way his tears acted like stripes on his face, it paralleled to the hidden trails that Kenma left behind.

“I need you, more than anything and anyone else.”

              The wind picked up again, or at least it felt like it. He could hear the way Kenma’s heart just stopped for a moment before slowly regaining itself, just like how Kenma did at the moment as he felt limp in his arms. The melody of sadness never left them, but the harmonies of slow acceptance began to rang out.

              Yamamoto kept Kenma in his arms for another hour or so, rubbing Kenma’s back and finally able to see his face. He could see how red the whites of his eyes were, the way his cheeks looked like they had been scarred by acid tears. His hand wiped them away like magic, repairing at least a percentage of the damage. Even with such a relaxed and calm face, Kenma looked as if he had been tortured and crying for days. In reality, he had been. No one has been able to see it clearly until now.

              The sound of the schoolbell rang, followed by students leaving the building only to come back for studying. The distant sounds of doors and windows opening for after school cleaning duties begun to sound, club activities starting up. Music from the band club, the shoutings of the outdoor sports clubs and so on so forth; it was muffled in their small bubble of comfort.

              Eventually he had to pull away, break the warmth for a moment as he looked down. He saw their volleyball club members going to the clubroom. First it was Yaku and Kai, followed up by Kuroo. The playful shouts of Inuoka and Lev, followed by Shibayama’s subdued cries to let him catch up, signalled that the first years had arrived. Whether or not Fukunaga was there, no one really knew until they entered the gym.

              Yamamoto looked back to Kenma, who found comfort in Yamamoto’s chest by leaning his head against it and his arms limp at his sides like a doll with broken joints. In this state, Yamamoto knew Kenma couldn’t have the motivation to move. With a bit of cooperation and effort, he had Kenma on his back and holding his legs, one at each side. With a gentle smile, Yamamoto looked back and spoke to Kenma directly, even if the other male had fallen asleep or merely didn’t want to talk.

“Kenma, let’s just go home.”

 


End file.
